Tree
by Trickster-Prophet
Summary: Clint has been up this tree for far too damn long.


**A/N: This was spawned from a discussion with my fic-writing partner-in-crime Tom when we dicussed places where it would suck to be posted as a sniper. A tree in a rainstorm came up. The fic pretty much wrote itself from there.**

* * *

Clint was none too pleased about his latest assignment. Sure, usually he was patient in waiting for his shot, but usually, he was not most of the way up a huge pine tree, having been there for the last 48 hours in a thunderstorm with nothing but caffeine pills, water and his weapons with him. He was not a happy sniper.

All he wanted was to make the kill and get out of the tree, back on the ground and into a hot shower then bed. Preferably with Phil. Although Clint was so stiff and sore right now that sex was seeming like less and less of an option. He sighed, becoming irritated and rotated his shoulders, feeling joints pop and muscles flex.

The wind howled, lashing his tree back and forth, making Clint very thankful of the harness keeping him tight against the trunk. A barrage of icy rain stung his face, and he raised a hand to wipe the droplets off his goggles. He only succeeded in smearing water across them. Cold, soaked and thoroughly miserable, he hunched deeper beneath the branches and shivered, his eyes tracking back and forth in search of his target.

He'd up there for another 10 hours when he finally sighted the target. He was as small untidy man, wearing a lab coat and glasses. For the briefest of seconds, Clint was reminded of Dr. Banner, and his aim wavered. But he pulled his focus back.

"Sir," He said into the radio, his voice rough from days of non-use, "I have the target in my sight, permission to fire?"

Instead of the voice of his handler for this op, Clint was delighted to her Phil's voice over the radio, "Granted, Agent Barton."

Clint took a deep breath and held it as he drew back the bowstring, all the way back until it brushed against his cheek. He waited for a few more seconds, adjusting his aim to counter the movement of the tree, then fired, releasing the bowstring and his breath as one. He watched the arrow find its mark and watched the man fall. He turned away as the arrow he'd fired exploded, erasing all evidence that he had even been there.

Clint sailed downwards on his rappel line, too tired to trust himself in climbing. His feet hit the ground and for the first time in several days, he was standing on something that wasn't moving. He only stood for a moment though, because then his legs gave out and he fell.

But strong arms caught him and a familiar voice said, "No falling down on the job, Agent Barton."

Clint smiled and buried his head against his partner's chest, breathing in his scent and just delighting in being near him. Phil gently wrapped an arm around his waist to support him. Clint leaned heavily on his partner as the older man helped him move over to his car, and he didn't complain when he was pushed gently into the back seat and Phil wrapped a blanket around him, and then turned away to the driver's seat.

Before he could get to far however, Clint reached out one hand and snagged the edge of his jacket, drawing him back. He snaked an arm around his partner's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Phil kissed him lightly then pushed his back into the seat.

"Come on," He said tenderly, "Let's get you home."

Phil looked up from typing a report as the shower shut off. A minute later, Clint appeared wearing old grey sweatpants and pulling a tight purple T-shirt over his still damp hair. He looked refreshed, but still fairly tired.

Phil closed his laptop and put it aside as Clint climbed into bed, snuggling up to him.

"You couldn't have dried your hair?" Phil asked good-naturedly, reaching over to turn off the light.

"Nah." Clint curled up against him.

Phil just smiled in the dark, leaning down to kiss him on the mouth. Not content with just that, Clint wrapped his arms around Phil's neck, rolling on top of him; kissing him deeply and moaning softly. One hand snuck downwards, Clint's super-sneaky attempt at undoing Phil's pants, but the other Agent caught his wrist and stopped him.

"Hey!" Clint protested, breaking the kiss. He sat up, giving Phil an aggrieved look, "That was gonna be fun."

Phil also sat up, forcing Clint to scoot back a little. He found himself nose to nose with him, and smiled as Clint tried to go for a kiss.

"Go to sleep, Agent Barton." He said sternly, sliding out from under Clint and curling under the covers with his back to the archer.

Well, Clint wasn't having any of that. He too wriggled under that covers and snuck an arm around Phil's waist, and began to gently kiss and nibble at his bare shoulder.

"You know…"He said lazily, kissing his way up his partner's neck, "I have an unbelievable amount of caffeine in my system, I'm in bed with you , I've spent the last few days up a tree, and I am incredibly horny." As if to emphasize this last point, Clint scooted forward and pressed his hips against Phil's backside, "You plan on doing anything about it?"  
Phil rolled back over, and Clint just knew it was challenge recognized, understood and accepted. And he was glad of it. Or that could be the part of him that is so caffeine-zapped that he really cannot stay still or the part of him that has spent the last few infuriating days in a tree and just needs Phil. But whatever it is, he's glad.

They did end up having sex; hot, raw and needy, Clint crying out as he came, hiding his face in the sheets. Phil followed him; his own cry more of a growl. They bother knew that they needed it.

As they lay together, enjoying the after-glow, Phil reached out and took Clint's hand. Clint cuddled against his chest, mumbling, "I love you." As he –finally- drifts off to sleep.

Phil smiles softly, "I love you too, Clint." He whispers into the silence.


End file.
